Chapter One - The Banquet

[Eyimon Sorossa]

Eyimon sheathed his sword with a smile and a nod to those about, returning to the table. Hopefully he had that blasted scabbard set straight. Another seemed to have arrived since he had left and was seated a short way away from Eyimon.
"Eyasha's merciful peace, please let this not turn into another incident." Eyimon prayed quietly as he sat down. It looked like an orc. It might be an orc, somewhere in there. Not one of the nothern variety though. There was a sort of refinement there that Eyimon couldn't place.

Johannes. That was the name on the invitation. That was who everyone here was supposed to know.

The more Eyimon turned the name over in his head, the more he could be sure he'd heard it before. Perhaps the Elder Johannes had known his father? Eyimon's father was dead and in the grave a decade at least though.
It seemed to Eyimon perhaps something of a joke, some colossal pun, that he had been invited. Eyimon hadn't seen his family since he was five. He hadn't known that his father had died until he was given the rights to the manor in a letter. A letter of all things. The house of Sorossa was not a particularly close one.

Eyimon wondered exactly when they would see this Caol Johannes. It didn't make sense that he would invite a... colourful, group such as this together and not appear. If the others began to get impatient. Eyimon feared what might happen.

[Foraste Lydan]

The butler led him to a table in the middle of the room and hurried off. Foraste sat down next to a mullog sitting at the table and was immediately bombarded by a nobleman sitting across from him. "How'd you do, my good man? I don't believe we've met before so I'll start the introductions," the man shot out quickly, "I am Terric Dorwillen, a cousin of Caol's. Who do I have the pleasure of greeting, good sir?"

"Foraste Lydan, Field Compendiumist, at your service. I am honored to be invited to this extravagant house. However I am bereft of information as to why I am invited, perhaps you can tell me more." Foraste hoped that the lords cousin could give him more information.

While he listened to the man he unbuckled his pack and set it on the ground under his seat and glanced around the room. A mullog sat at his table next to him, she seemed to be fixated on the apparently empty area beside her. Looking around her he saw that a brownie was holding her attention. This Johannes must have known a great many people as to warrant such a ragtag group of beings. Or perhaps all of them had been drawn here by a similar letter from an unknown nobleman.

[Twigga Knosst]

Godwin and Estrilda
"I am not offend in question. I am beink from not these country, but from far way, from conti... continent? of Aeruillin."

Godwin beamed in his huge benevolent manner. "So far away, eh?" He gestured to his right side with one meaty thumb. "Lady Estrilda and I haven't been-"

He broke off, staring, as  a servant showed a bald orc adorned in stiff red robes to the seat directly across from Toama, and watched as the guest promptly proceeded to lean across the table towards the tan-skinned woman. He seemed a bit uncertain of himself, as if he had come to the wrong place by mistake. "Excuse me, but you wouldn't happen to know our host would you? I fear I may have missed him on my way in. I'm not very good with dealing with humans." His voice confessed embarrassment of some kind.

Almost immediately, Lady Estrilda's shrill voice came trilling over his shoulder in a manner that was meant to be hushed but nonetheless carried to every corner of the grand hall. Her bony fingers clutched Godwin's arm, piercing like five unpleasantly sharp needles. "Oh, my! My lord Godwin, is that another orc?" The other skeletal hand fanned at her bird-like visage. "Oh, my word, they do grate on my nerves, they do!" Estrilda brought her face close to her husband's head, hissing into his ear. "Why were they invited, anyway? Surely those barbarians couldn't have had any connection with the late Lord Johannes. They..."

Lord Godwin hushed his wife with a thick finger to his lips. "Lady Estrilda, dear!" He glanced at the bearded orc waiting for a reply from Toama. "Don't be ridiculous, my dear! Your nerves are grated on by everything..." Her mouth opened indignantly in protest, earning another hushing motion from her spouse. "Dear, I know your nerves are dreadful... Yes, I'm sorry I said that; of course you can't help it." His booming voice lowered considerably. "And don't worry, my Lady Estrilda. He's but a simple orc. His aristocratic standing can't be that high."

With a sniff of her pointed nose, Estrilda conceded and loosened her grip on her husband's arm. Godwin, renewing his previously jolly conduct, turned to the orc. "So, good sir! What brings a man like- er, one like you to this occasion?"

"My Lord Godwin!" came the strident response at once. "You know how it bears on my nerves when you are rude like that! Honestly, dear, how can you say such a thing, bringing up mention of the dead without the proper respect? It's a funeral, for heaven's sake! Oh, my harried nerves!"

[Deklitch Hardin]

“The Kann Kemruhnt!” was suddenly said by Jenna and Dek smiled at the memories ... the music, the singing, the drinking, the smoke.

"That's right," Dek said with another smile, "you're a good musician," he added to her, as the jester dragged out a banjo and began to play.

"Say," he continued to Jenna, "didn't you recently bring one of your pies to the compendium? It was delicious."

Dek listened to the song, smiling as Waleron played and sang, even as he listened to what Jenna was saying.

“Sorry for drifting off- but yes, the Rovers never visited the shire while I were living in it. It was at the Kemruhnt we met, weren’t it? That was a grand time! You were the lad who came to sing with us. Well, Dek, I’m Jenna, in case you’re as forgetful me.” Remembering his naively open comment about not knowing anything of The Johannes family, she lowered her voice so only he could hear and said “Now don’t go telling everyone, but I’ll admit I don’t know nothing about this Dagmar neither. Well, I found out as much as I could ‘bout the family afore I came, but I never clapped eyes on the fellow while he were alive. Makes me wonder if there ain’t more here who had an invite arrive clear out of the blue. T’send one invite out t’the wrong person’s a mistake, but two starts to look a little more suspicious, don’t you think?”

Dek nodded, she was correct, of course. His face went slightly red with embarassment and said softly to her, I sometimes speak before my brain gets into gear. I figured it might have had something to do with my mother. She was from around these parts, I understand. She was disowned by her family when she fell pregnant with me to my father. She and I came and lived with the Rovers. The Rovers are all I've known. But none of them will tell me anything about my mother. I even came back to where she grew up, but I was beaten and returned to the Black Butterfly Rovers. I still know next to nothing about her, and want to know more. I guess it's because I'm a truth seeker."

Dek was quiet, listening to the song and the music and smiling, then another song started up with some other singing and he decided he didn't like it that much at all ... the words, he didn't recognise them, but he did admit to himself that the music sounded alright. Dek turned and looked at the man who was playing a stringed instrument, then, the man returned to the start and sang in the common tongue. Then, after a brief conferral with another man from his table, the man played another tune. Dek listened carefully to it, and applauded politely at the end of it.

Looking at Jenna, Dek said, "I think that these people need to hear a bit about Rover Nancy." He looked at Waleran, "how about you play again, Waleran, and I'll sing this time. It's a fairly simple tune, so it shouldn't take you too long to pick it up. It starts on mid ey. Can you do that?"

[Caol Johannes]

Terric and Aldred

Aldred listened as carefully as he could to the musician's reply, "Maybe we'll try something more exciting. Why not an improvisation?" Aldred got the impression that this person knew quite a bit about music, but the nobleman couldn't catch much else. And that last word positively threw him for a loop. Mustering his limited thought capacity into a sensible answer, he began to speak, "Improv...Im...Do you know some music that is good for dinner? Helps eatings, er, diges...eating? I'm feeling hungry already, I hope they serve some food soon." A more familiar topic was adding a bit of confidence to his words again. "Let's hope the food here is better than the last dinner I went to. You wouldn't believe how much bland food a noble will serve. I'm so tired of unexciting food...hey, maybe you could play something exciting, to liven up the food?" Aldred had already completey forgotten that this was exactly what the man had just asked him, but that was of little consequence to the dull-witted man.

Meanwhile, Terric was excited by some revelation from the man he was engaging in conversation. "A Compendiumist! How very, very interesting! That must be a very thrilling job, no? And one requiring quite a bit of knowledge, I would think. Where did you study for such a serious undertaking?" A thought occured to Terric, giving him a moment's pause. A twinkle appeared in his eye, and he continued talking at an even faster rate, "You know, I might have a good project for you, my good man. Something that could keep even a Compendiumist busy at work. Ah yes, if you would do me this favor I would be deeply pleased. Would you consider the project if I gave you a few details?"

[Grail Monhart]

Having made it into the kitchen, Grail took a moment to look around. People were milling about, no doubt getting things ready for the... festivities. Flicking his hair with his injured hand, he crouched as he moved about. Silently, and stealthily he made his way around the perimeter of the kitchen taking care to avoid cooks, servants, and waiters. Now which way is out?

There appeared to be two entrances, but it was hard to tell which one was going to be the side door, or main door. As he shuffled about the shadows and generally made sure he wasn't in anyone's way, he tried to grasp what to do next. On a guess he made his way to one of the doors and was about to try the knob when the other door flew open. With a flick of motion he slid effortlessly through the now obvious side door, and found himself amongst the other guess. It seemed that luck was on his side, and so feeling good about himself he made his way to one of the tables.

A large orc was seated at the table along with a man who could have easily passed for an Erpheronian, and a three other people whom he couldn't place. With a smile and a nod to the other people at the table he took a seat next to the lean Erpheronian.

"Hello good people. Lovely day isn't it? I hope you'll forgive me for my intrusion, but every where else was relatively full."

[Grom Hazl'r]

"Oh, my! My lord Godwin, is that another orc? Oh, my word, they do grate on my nerves, they do!" Truth be told, it was not the first time Grom had hear such a response to his presence nor would it be the last, but it always stung. He somberly sat up straighter in his chair and looked the speaker, a thin lady with an almost hawk-like face, straight in the eyes.

"So, good sir! What brings a man like- er, one like you to this occasion?" Before Grom could say a word in answer, the lady, whom he assumed was the man's wife, spoke up again. "My Lord Godwin! You know how it bears on my nerves when you are rude like that! Honestly, dear, how can you say such a thing, bringing up mention of the dead without the proper respect? It's a funeral, for heaven's sake! Oh, my harried nerves!" She's an odd one, for a human. Still, it appears as if she has some standing or other. Sometimes I wish human politics were as simple as my people's. Clearing his throat before answering, "Well, I received a letter, an invitation really, which said I was to come and pay my respects to the late Lord Johannes. So here I am, though I will admit that I did not know the man personally nor have I a reputation. I myself am a bit confused as to why I was invited to the funeral of such a prestigious man which I hope will be made clear once I get a chance to speak to his son." Pausing to look around once more, "You wouldn't happen to know if he's here yet do you?"

Before the man answered, yet another guest sat at the table and engaged the White Knight in conversation. Such a strange gathering guests, who was this man Johannes?

[Jenna Silverbirch]

Jenna sat back as she listened to the lad’s speech. His voice was deepening, she noted, but still squeaked in that curious strained way of male adolescents. ‘T’were if someone had sat on their privates!’ her mother had remarked on more than one occasion.

Smiling a little at the thought of that, she nodded a little as she listened, the smile turning to a grin as he complimented her playing.
“That’s a most kind thing t’say, lad…”she mumbled, blushing a little.

"Say," Deklitch continued "didn't you recently bring one of your pies to the compendium? It was delicious."

“I did indeed, I did!” she said, fumbling in the pocket of breeches to try to get hold of her pipe, for she felt in need of a smoke “I like writing this and that as much as I do singing. Tis an honour t’have something o’mine in that great compendium, I must say.” She finally drew her pipe from her pocket and paused, struck by recollection for a second time. “Aha!” she exclaimed. "You’re the one who’s been writing about  all them kyranian matters, ent you? Most informative, one don’t normally hear much about those folks, I think. I must bake a pie with some Kyrattin meat one day. T’see if you like eating ‘em as much as you do writing ‘bout ‘em!”

Her pipe retrieved, she began searching for a match as the lad spoke of his mother.
“That’s a sad tale. I hope you find out what became of her eventually, master Hardin-p’raps you will soon, if she lived near here. There ain’t nothing more frustrating than an unsolved mystery, I find” she said, keeping her voice as mournful as she could while she became increasingly annoyed as her matches completely failed to be anywhere on her person. It’s an interesting one as well, she thought. I must write it down afore I forget! You could spin a good story from it, I think.

Still frantically patting at her waistcoat, she continued, speaking with a wry smirk.
“I’m lucky, I suppose. My ma’s been with my all my life and I love her dearly, I do. Though I’m fairly certain I never met my father. Ma didn’t talk of him, and neither did most of the town. Well, I’ve never wanted to meet him! He sounds as though he were nothing better than a wandering scoundrel-y great-hobbit without a decent loving feeling in him.”

She joined Deklitch in applauding the magnificently moustached human at the opposite table, having finally remembered her matches were sitting on the dressing table back at the Nymeran inn.
Casting a glance at her, Deklitch said "I think that these people need to hear a bit about Rover Nancy."
Jenna chuckled. “Oh, aye, that song” she said with a wink. “I bet it’s just the sort of thing all these high-n-mighty folk’s turn their noses up at. Just be careful they don’t throw you out for vulgar behaviour!”
She considered whether or not to sing along. As much as the thought of shocking the human nobles amused her, she still wanted to stay inconspicuous as long as possible. Looking to Waleran, she gave the jester a smile and said- “T’were a fine tune you were singing, and, your master willing- it’d be nice to hear another.”

She rolled her fingers sound her pipe’s stem, lamenting her match’s absence.
“I wonder” she began, loud enough for the rest of her table to hear her, and perhaps those on the next table along as well. “If anyone has a match on them? Or anything else that could light a poor hobbit’s pipe?”

[Kaldez’Yadra]

As Kaldez approached the manor he couldn't help but think of the odd invitation from a man he had no knowledge of. It was early morning, i was going through my morning rituals when there was a knock at my door. I found the interruption quite irritating but i opened the door anyway. In the hallway stood a man with a letter, without a word he thrust the letter into my hand and left. Inside was a fancy piece of paper with graceful writing in a shining black ink. Incapable of reading i brought it to the inn keeper. He told me i had received an invitation, a funeral invitation, of one Master Johannes. When i asked him the whereabouts of said funeral he gave me the directions to the Manor i am now approaching, odd circumstances indeed. How did he know me, how did they find me, and how did he die?

As Kaldez appraoched the door he hoped was the entrance, large building often had to many such things, he went over his belongings and removed the invitation from his pocket. He was in all black, his standard appearance if he wasn't expecting trouble. His scarf and cape he felt might have been a little to bright so he had tucked them in his pack. Kaldez found his way to where a few people still stood. Deciding to follow suite he stood against a nearby wall.

[Salkazrian]

   After speaking with the little girl, whom Salkazrian learned was called Lyra, the one-armed lady made her leave and started to walk back to her seat.  Eyimon had already returned to their table, and Salkazrian wondered what he would be thinking of her now.

   “How did the old man get acquainted with an orc?”  Salkazrian thought to herself as she walked.  “That is, of course, if he knew him at all.”

   Something about the gathering wasn’t right; why would so many unusual people be here?  It stood an increasingly likely possibility that they, like herself, hadn’t known the deceased.  But if that were the case, then who would have invited them, and why?

   Salkazrian didn’t have much time to consider these intriguing questions further, for as she got closer to her table, she noticed another orc!  For a moment, a wave of adrenalin washed over her, but she quickly suppressed it.

   “I won’t say a word this time,” she thought to herself as she sat down in her chair.  “But I’ll keep an eye on him; that’s for sure!”

   Another new arrival sat at the table, too; a young man.  His clothes were far from noble, but he had a cute face.  Salkazrian nodded in his direction briefly, and flashed him a quick wink.

   “Well,” she said to Eyimon once she was seated, “I’m glad that’s over.”  She smiled slightly, and then added, “But tell me, do you really think that you’d best me in a sword fight?"

[Twigga Knosst]

Myrach
The circus lad, Deklitch, turned his gaze to Waleran with that impish air that he had about him. "I think that these people need to hear a bit about Rover Nancy. How about you play again, Waleran, and I'll sing this time? It's a fairly simple tune, so it shouldn't take you too long to pick it up." Waleran glanced at Lord Myrach- he hoped he was wrong about what the noble's response would be. "It starts on mid ey. Can you do that?"

“T’were a fine tune you were singing, and, your master willing- it’d be nice to hear another," piped in the halfling.

A frown tugged at the jester's mouth as he glanced doubtfully at Myrach, inclining his head respectfully. "My lord, would you mind if I accomodated the wishes of our dignified neighbors?"

"Waleran, I wish to sample their dryest wine. Fetch me a glass." A dismissive wave of Myrach's hand sliced through the air.

"But, my lord? You already had a glass, my lord." A look of slight puzzlement creased the jester's knobby-nosed face.

"Waleran." Myrach's fingers tapped quickly, testily on the clothed wood of the table. "That hardly matters. Now, their dryest wine, if you will, jesting simpleton!"

The jester's features cleared, followed by the wide-eyed, nervous look seen in the frightened eyes of a colt. His adam's apple bobbed up and down like one end of a seesaw. "Yes, my lord." Once more throwing an skittish apologetic expression at Deklitch, he fled down the length of the hall, eventually disappearing into one of the servants' side doors. If possible, his limbs moved even more awkwardly than before, legs trembling with every step.

"No, I'm afraid there won't be any more music for the time being. But how about you all tell me about yourselves, how you know the Johannes, et cetera," Myrach said with a sudden, cold change of tone. One could almost imagine his cynical brows raising in derision of the guests, but anything his face might have betrayed was concealed by his black hood. He turned his head abruptly, looking at the halfling on the other side of the orc. "Would you like to start, young one? ...Oh, how rude of me! Interrupting a conversation like that. I do apologize."

He kept his obscured eyes on all four of the tables, scanning for the effects of the order he had given to Waleran. Soon enough a suggestion of a chilly, satisfied smile played about the shadowed area of his mouth, for he glimpsed the brawny, tough-looking men slipping imperceptibly in throughout the hall.

***** ***** *****

Lord Godwin and Lady Estrilda
Lady Estrilda made a shrill, meeping noise that sounded more than a little indignant. "Him! Here yet!" Fanning her face again, she sucked in air. "Oh my, my smelling salts! Oh!" Her thin hand groped about her neck until it found the capsule hung there, flourishing it directly beneath her nose, herself moaning stridently. "The man is dead! Oh, the disrespect! Oh, my!"

"No, no, my dear." Godwin patted his wife's arm patiently. "No, I believe the man- er, he was referring to the son, young Caol Johannes, my dear. Weren't you, ah, sir?" He looked inquiringly at the orc, doggedly persisting in his arm pats as Estrilda continued her high-pitched keening sound. "I'm not sure if he's here yet, hasn't shown up, anyway. Poor lad. Always been a cynical lad, at least the here-and-there times I've visited with him, but I can't say what his father's death has done to him."

Abruptly his blunt, bearded face, so unused and ill-fitted to solemness, brightened, its various creases becoming happy again, and he banged one meaty fist on the table. "But there! Too much solemnity is bad for the soul, you know! It is a funeral and all, but myself, I can't see why every minute of it has to be somberness and grief!" He winked. "Lady Estrilda and I, we're just here for the reading of the will!" Lord Godwin's barrel-chested torso shook as he roared with laughter.

Almost immediately his wife's moans became shriller and louder. "Oh, Lord Godwin, such disgrace for the deceased! Oh, how can you, my lord! My nerves, my nerves!"

"Well... That and the food!" Godwin grinned at Toama and the orc. "Oh, hush, Estrilda dear, it's all right." He wiped a few merry tears from his eyes as his mirth subsided. "Ah... Seriously, however, I am sad to see the old fellow go... Kind of cowardly chap, he was, but he always had a proverb or two for me. Ah yes,  I can remember quite a few of them." Curiousity lit his face, and he looked from Toama and the orc's faces. "Perhaps he gave a few to you? Remember any good ones?"

[Foraste Lydan]

Terric was certainly merry, a good change of pace at a funeral. "A Compendiumist! How very, very interesting! That must be a very thrilling job, no? And one requiring quite a bit of knowledge, I would think. Where did you study for such a serious undertaking?" he shot out, apparently without needing to take a breath.

He then continued without waiting for Foraste to respond, "You know, I might have a good project for you, my good man. Something that could keep even a Compendiumist busy at work. Ah yes, if you would do me this favor I would be deeply pleased. Would you consider the project if I gave you a few details?"

A contract! Now that was good news, Foraste thought, he hadn't been given a private assignment in ages. "I would certainly take on any such assignment, what would you have me do?" Foraste replied.

[Caol Johannes]

Koros

Koros strode into the kitchen, only to find everything seemingly operating according to schedule. Dinner was smelling wonderful, and nearly everyone was working busily, with the exception of a lone boy standing idly staring off in the direction of the side door. However, upon noticing Koros, he quickly snapped into action and scurried into the farthest corner of the cooking area. Koros stood silent for a moment, his irritation nagging at him every second he did so. "Well, boy?" He allowed the words to escape with great care, not letting too much anger into his voice before continuing, "I thought we had another guest here, I certainly hope he hasn't fallen into the soup."

The servant looked up at Koros with a mixture of fear and mischief in his eyes, "Well, I...errr, it seems he musta fergot his invite, yeah? Seeing as there's nobody of interest here, why don't I just let ya be on with yer job." The boy began sheepishly stepping away to join his comrade at the other end of the room. Koros looked on as the youth cast glances back at him with every creeping step. Making no move, Koros simply panned his gaze across the room, resting it upon each and every member of the kitchen staff. Oh well, he thought, this is one mystery I simply don't have the time to deal with. Clearing his throat a bit he added, "Serve the appetizers and main course, chef. See to it that it is served with a choice of neepwine, ice wine, and cha'ah. And please be quick with it, if you can."

As Koros walked out, several servants disseminated among the tables carrying trays of food and carts with iced drinks. The appetizer was toasted breddgrain sprinkled with cinnabark, and was followed up with a mithanjor stew. After that, the guests had a choice of dishes between spicy taenish, juicy beef, and pulled pork with various vegetables.

As the meal was being served, Koros noticed that there were still a few straggling guests filing in, much to his chagrin. Shrugging off the inconvenience this caused him, Koros put on a smiling face to greet them all. He particularly noticed the one leaning up against the wall, standing out from the crowd with his snow-white hair. "Good evening, my good sir. Your timing is excellent, for we are just serving the meal at this instant. Had you arrived any later, I fear you might have missed dinner! But never mind that, just follow me this way to your seat." Whatever unpleasantness had been occurring earlier had settled down now, and with several empty seats remaining here this seemed the best place for the new guest. "Enjoy your meal, sir," Koros said as he motioned to the seat for the man, the one to the young Rover's left.


Terric

"I would certainly take on any such assignment, what would you have me do?"

"Well, mymymy..." Terric paused for a short breath, arranging his hurried thoughts, "It's my understanding that the Compendium does plenty of entries on various persons across the disk, no? Well if I do say so, the Dorwillen family is one that should be of great interest to you, great interest. Lots of interesting people in it, if you hadn't guessed...hehe...well, I think you'll find, if you'd just listen to me for a little while, that I am not only part of such a wonderful heritage, but I am most certainly..." His voice lowered to a muttering whisper, "the very most important person in that family. Why, one might say," his voice dropped a bit more, "that I am the most interesting person in all of Nermeran!"

"Well, what would you like to hear about me first, my life as a child? My great artistic accomplishments? How about the wild love life that has me the gossip of the town? Or, to stay a little truer to the matter on hand, my relationship to the Johannes? And a little info on my excellent family tree?" Terric was badly exaggerating about himself, but how often did you get a chance to get your name in the Compendium? Besides, that accomplishment might win him enough fame to actually have that wild love life he'd just lied about...

[Kaldez’Yadra]

Kaldez did not have to wait long before an elderly, but fit, servant came speaking "Good evening, my good sir. Your timing is excellent, for we are just serving the meal at this instant. Had you arrived any later, I fear you might have missed dinner! But never mind that, just follow me this way to your seat."

Kaldez was glad to know he hadn't missed the meal, he was quit famished, he followed the man to a table where he was motioned to sit next to a young man, almost still a boy it appeared, he had reddish hair matched with gray eyes and freckles. "Enjoy your meal, sir" said the serving man before he left.

Across from Kaldez sat a halfling she had curly blonde hair and brown eyes, she seemed to be of a greater height than other hobbits he had seen. Next to the hobbit sat a little girl, and more notably next to the girl sat an orc, his skin was a dark gray, his eyes a burning red, Kaldez had no love for the orcs, his dislike being a ingrained in him by his parents when they taught him of his people. Kaldez decided that for the time being he would keep an eye on this orc, after all he had no personal reason to hate the orc, just a tribal one.

Next to the orc sat another human, but Kaldez gave the human no attention instead he sat silently watching the orc out of the corner of his eye and waiting for some food.

[Alexandre Scriabin]

Finally having come out of the stupor his second conversation with Aldred put upon him, he caught the pungent fragrance emanating from the kitchen. Such amenities shouldn't be needed or worried about, but he couldn't help but feel spirited that he was about to eat a better meal than he had eaten in a few months.

He heartily enjoyed the toasted bread of cinnabark, and the stew cleared his taste palette well enough for him to delight in the spiced taenish.

In his mind, you could rate food upon how much you sweat when you eat it, and the taenish was certainly doing well. Not only that, but Aldred was preoccupied with the food before him, and it gave him time to take yet another perspective of those around him.

There was quite a variety of peoples in the manor. He recognized a Rover, two Orcs of different heritage, and all manner of venturesome folks that looked like they were quite the energetic type. What really seemed to suggest something, however, was that a Kasumarrii man had just entered. What sort of a situation was he getting whisked into anyway?

Why was he invited here, for that matter? He certainly didn't fit into the crowd. They were all too much prettier than him, and it was a sad reminder that he was no longer a strapping young lad. He remembered distinctly how he could pick out enticing women as if they were trolls in a hafling's home.

Feeling a bit like an addict, he withdrew once more, and like a paranoid six year old he played his Fíoelà just so quietly that one would have to be closer to hear it all that well.

Tensely he bowed a few chords, and he reprimanded himself mentally for a moment, stretched his hands in a way that looked apparently painful, and loosened his countenance first, then his wrists, until he was relaxed enough to play.

He then began to practice scale progressions one after the other for about a minute and a half. By the time he had gotten that far, he lost all sense of time, environment, obligations, and then even his own self... At the last, he held only onto a sense of morality to mentally chastise himself should he make a mistake.

Having finished warming up, he began in earnest to play. Soulfully, he wove his way around the fretboard of the instrument, vibrating the chords and singular notes he bowed, developing upon it only scantily as it was the opening entreaty of a sonata.

Then he brought two different themes together: one with self contradicting chords, clustered harmonies and slow, drawn out bravado, with drumming notes in the background to keep a concrete tempo. And the other theme was more of a folk melody, with short, separated notes and chords to complement them every so often, but more remote sounding, loose rhythmically, and softly played, rather than the boisterous melodies  you often heard that sometimes didn't seem so conscious of themselves.

If he was at all insightful a person, or righteous in any way; The music was much more so. The piece was who he wanted to be, who he tried to live up to: Fair portion and measure in every direction, similar to a droplet of air beneath the surface of water that distributes itself in so symmetric a sphere, that every natural principle is taken into account.

Aldred made eye contact and said a few words, but Scriabin apparently didn't hear him. He just kept on playing, or was he playing any more? He couldn't hear it anymore, and for that matter it began to seem more like audible thoughts. Needless to say, he was experiencing bliss.

And however moral and justified his reasoning seemed, the trance gave him something akin to savage pleasure. Is the notion of being wholesome and righteous any different towards any end rather than committing one's life to sins and transgressions against love? Or was this bliss a reminiscense of the mutual relationship between each individual to some degree? Did it make a difference at all if one was righteous or not? The very fact that we exist must have been a casualty of logic and balance. Or is it that we might become righteous in spite of it all that tips the scale? And is that precisely why we aren't privy to every bit of knowledge available to Ava (whoever and whatever she is)? Why, even I myself would be blunt as a child if provided with the information, and take it all in with an absolute lack of perspective. Perhaps I'll have to lean unto an understanding other than my own.

Having been sated of such thoughts, he reached the conclusion that the reason behind such intense pleasure was the lack of guilt in which one could observe and participate in the emotion. The different sinful pleasures were obviously intense, but by the same token temporary, self contradicting, subject to environment, and transgress against every other individual present at that specific time.

And when one follows the narrow path of righteousness, the troubles of the world seem as nothing; Not to mention, any treasures the world has to offer appears as rubbish in comparison to the wholesome sentiments naturally ingrained in people that were impossible to remove, untraceable except by intuition, as if given by so undeserved a graceful delegation as one had trouble picturing. Damn. I didn't expect we'd have to do any growing up today, old man. I'll have to puzzle on that for weeks now. What a chore...

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